


for the love of pineapple

by ScottieIsImpatient



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Romantic Fluff, Tuckerreed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:09:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25245169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScottieIsImpatient/pseuds/ScottieIsImpatient
Summary: Could it be? Me? Writing FLUFF? Indeed it is.
Relationships: Malcolm Reed/Charles "Trip" Tucker III
Comments: 14
Kudos: 35





	for the love of pineapple

**Author's Note:**

> Could it be? Me? Writing FLUFF? Indeed it is.

The text came unexpectedly at one in the morning, long after Commander Tucker _should_ have been asleep.

_“I have pineapple!!”_

Trip blinked at the message alert. It had come from Malcolm, and what Malcolm was doing awake at one am he didn’t know. The man was a workaholic to be sure but not an insomniac- and they were on shore leave, for christ’s sake! Trip hesitantly clicked on the alert, his PADD bringing him from the weekly maintenance logs to his messages.

_I have pineapple!!_ was sprawled out on the screen as clear as day.

Trip typed in his response and hit send. _The hell are you talking about?_

Malcolm was quick to reply. _I have pineapple_ he typed again, followed by an emoji on the fruit in question. Trip bit his bottom lip. He and Malcolm rarely messaged each other at all, aside from the various work-related questions. Most of their talking they did in person. And why the hell was Malcolm texting him about pineapple, of all things? Had Trip missed something?

The commander felt his stomach drop. God, he hadn’t missed Malcolm’s _birthday,_ had he? Quickly, he swiped down on the screen to display the date and time. September seventeenth. No, Malcolm’s birthday was weeks prior. Trip sighed in relief.

Another message came through with a brief chirp. _I love pineapple._

Trip snorted. “I know that,” he muttered aloud. As funny as the whole thing seemed, something was off. _I’m coming over_ he typed into the PADD, then he tugged on a plain T-shirt and some slippers and opened the door.

Fortunately, there was no one in the halls to see the state he was in. Trip tip-toed quietly, counting the doors under his breath as he did so. Finally, he reached room twenty. “Malcolm?” Trip said softly. “You in there?”

A muffled giggle was his response, followed by a clatter as something fell. _God, he isn’t drunk, is he?_ Trip thought. Shore leave meant they could enjoy themselves, yes, but Malcolm’s idea of “enjoying himself” often meant the same thing as “working”. Slightly worried, Trip opened the door.

Malcolm was most definitely drunk. A near finished bottle of whiskey sat on his desk, dangerously close to toppling off. When Trip laid eyes on Malcolm, he realized just how weird the scene before him was.

Malcolm was sprawled out on his bed, his hair all mused and his jacket half off. He held a pineapple – a _whole pineapple_ – in his hand. There was a bite take out of it.

“Trip!” Malcolm slurred. He kicked his way into a sitting position and lurched forward to wrap his arms around the commander. “Glad y’ could come!”

“What the hell, Malcolm?” Trip hissed.

At the harshness in the commander’s tone, Malcolm slunk back and lowered his gaze like a frightened child. Trip sighed and reached out to touch his arm. “Hey. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Malcolm brightened almost immediately. He waved the pineapple in Trip’s face. “I love pineapple," the man exclaimed.

Then he took a massive bite out of it as if it were an apple.

“Who even _gave_ ya that?” Trip asked as he fought to grab the fruit.

Malcolm shoved him away and shook his head. “Mine.”

“Malcolm,” Trip warned. _This is ridiculous,_ he was thinking. _I sound like a frikin’ mother hen. Why the hell does he have a pineapple in the first place?_

Malcolm hid the pineapple behind his back and smiled innocently. “There’s no pineapple,” he said. “You can leave now.”

“I ain’t leavin’. Not until you tell me where you got it.”

“It’s a secret,” Malcolm whispered loudly. He put a finger to his mouth. “Can’t tell.”

Trip raised his hands and sighed. “Alright, ya don’t hafta tell me if you don’t want t’.”

“Good,” chirped Malcolm. Then he brought the pineapple back out and took yet another bite. Trip cringed at the sound, praying that pineapple skin wouldn’t do harm to the man’s digestive system. _Let’s hope those allergy shots are working._

“Do you like pineapple?” Malcolm asked abruptly.

Trip restrained a laugh. “I, uh, like anythin’ really.”

“Pineapple’s good,” Malcolm went on. “I like it. Even when it makes my throat swell up and my lungs stop working.”

“Excuse me- _what_?”

“Oh, that hasn’t happened for… erm, ten years, I think,” Malcolm exclaimed. It did nothing to make Trip feel better, though. “When I was very, very little, I would eat pineapple everything and get so sick I would go to the hospital! Can you believe?” He slung an arm around Trip’s shoulder and laughed. “I was a dumb, stupid kid.”

“Malcolm, I don’t-”

“That’s what my uncle would say,” continued Malcolm, way too brightly. “We were all dumb, stupid kids. Me; Maddie; even my father sometimes! Of course, Uncle Royce was always a bit…” Malcom twirled a finger at the side of his head. He sighed and leant against Trip, tilting his head against the taller man’s shoulder. “Anyway, I like pineapple.”

“So I gathered,” Trip said awkwardly. “Listen, Malcolm. It’s gettin’ late and we both have a helluva lot o’ work to do tomorrow.” _And I’d rather not have you accidentially spill any more of your secrets to me. You’re already gonna regret it later._

“It’s already tomorrow.” Malcolm pointed at the clock beside his bed. “And anyway, I’m not tired.”

“You’re drunk,” said Trip bluntly, unsure of what else to say.

Malcolm rolled his eyes and pointed to the half-empty bottle on his desk. “Duh. It’s shore leave.”

Trip, giving a defeated sigh, started ushering Malcolm back towards his bed. If it were the other way around, he thought, Malcolm would’ve gotten _his_ ass in bed and the lights out five minutes ago. “C’mon.”

“But the sheets are _cold,_ Trip!” Malcolm whined. Then a thoughtful look crossed his face and he pressed up against Trip, their faces inches apart. Trip could feel the other man’s breath on his cheek.

“Can’t ya help me warm them up?”

Trip’s face went firetruck red.

“M-maybe later,” he stuttered. Malcolm laughed at his flustered expression, which brought one good thing- Trip could finally take the pineapple from his hand.

“Don’t be rude, Trippy,” Malcolm continued. He grabbed Trip’s shirt collar and pulled himself even closer, their noses touching. “I thought you were m’ boyfriend.”

And then the gap between them was closed and Trip felt his eyes flutter involuntarily; his hands lifting to rest on Malcolm’s waist as he let himself fall forward.

When they broke away, Trip’s mind was torn. A part of him wanted to continue. He wanted to see where this would go, but the other half – the more sensible half, maybe – knew he couldn’t. Malcolm seemed to sense this, too, because his gaze sobered. “S’rry.”

“No, it’s a’right!” Trip said hurriedly, taking Malcolm’s hand. “I’m just exhausted. Maybe another time, ‘kay?”

“’kay,” Malcolm echoed, brightening. “I love you, Trip.”

Trip blanked for a solid second. “Naw, I love ya too, Mal-”

“Almost as much as I love pineapple.”

Then Malcolm reached for the fruit and Trip had to actively swat his hand away. “Bedtime. Now.”

Trip all but shoved Malcolm onto the bed, and for a moment his mind conjured such a dirty image he had to stop and breathe before he could resume. By the look of things, Malcolm got the same sort of idea.

“’m still cold,” the Englishman declared. He exaggerated a shiver for good measure.

“An’ what am I s’pposed to say when the Cap’n knocks on yer door and finds the both of us in one bed?”

Malcolm only gave him puppy-dog eyes Trip didn’t even know he _had_ and, goddamnit, Trip didn’t have the heart to say no. Besides- what harm could a bit of cuddling do?

The moment Trip lowered himself onto the bed, Malcolm flung his arms around his shoulders and buried his face in the crook of his neck. “’s warm,” he remarked softly; muffled. The vibrations tickled a bit. “Thanks.”

“Any time,” Trip whispered back. He found he no longer cared what would happen if Archer found them then and there. Trip loved this man to death and back again and nothing would change that.

Not even pineapple.


End file.
